Happy Solstice!

The longest day of the year. The Ts and I have been enjoying the long days and low-to-mid-80s weatherthe past couple of days--I take them out for an hour just as soon as I get home, and for another hour after they've had time to digest their dinner. The mosquitos are bad then, but, I don't know, this year the twilight hours seem particularly magical to me. I haven't cherished them like this since I was a teen and used to ride my horse from right after dinner until I had to clean out her feet by the light of the security light out by the barn when we got back. I loved the long summer days then.

Today, however, it's 90 and we're inside. For one thing, I went to the memorial service for a colleague's husband this afternoon. He was, among other things, a small aircraft pilot, so his mother had the idea to hold the memorial service out at our teeny-tiny airport, in a metal airplane hangar. Not enough chairs (there were a lot of people there), no AC. The friends I went with are in their early 60s. We had to stand. We stayed near the door where there was a bit of a breeze, and I had, fortunately, brought bottled water which I passed around at intervals, but we were all about ready to pass out by the time it was over. Especially at the end, when everyone was already hot and worn-out, and they closed the hangar to do a slideshow. This, of course, effectively cut off what little breeze there was. Since I didn't know the guy at all, or really anyone there but my two friends and our colleague, it was pretty excruciating. At least I was wearing flats, unlike some of the women who had to stand for an hour and a half in high heels.

At any rate, woozy from the heat, I came home, sluiced cold water over myself (I don't have a shower, so I have one of those rubber-hose dealies--you crouch in the tub and hope it doesn't come off the faucet), put on as little as decently possible, and am currently sitting in front of a fan (it's not really hot enough inside to warrant turning on the AC) with a glass of ice-cold lemonade. Taenzer is looking wistfully out the window and Timber is back in Taenzer's crate.

I sure wish he wouldn't spend so much time off by himself. Typical mom worrying about her child, I guess, but he's the first GSD I've had who isn't constantly in the same room I am. Nixie, Stella, and Taenzer were/are always with me, even in the bathroom--I've learned to be careful stepping back from the sink lest I step on someone--but Timber mainly stays in one of the crates in the bedroom unless something like dinner or a trip outdoors is going on. He used to use the crate in the living room--which I put there specially for him--until Annie started peeing in it. Now, even though I cleaned it out and got a new soft crate pillow, he won't go in it. So he's always by himself, at least when I'm home. It worries me.

*******

Well, no sooner had I written the above than Mr. T himself came out and sat down at my feet. I slid down to sit behind him, and he let me pet him and love on him almost half an hour. I got a little bit of brushing in, and I massaged his neck and shoulders, which he loves--every time I would lift my hands, he would look over his shoulder at me and wiggle backward a fraction of an inch; near the end he was sitting in my lap. When he indicated he'd had enough, I fixed him (and Taenzer, of course) dinner--the first real dinner he's had in several days, and he scarfed it right up. He's back in the bedroom now, but at least he did come out and initiate some contact.

I love him so much. And my sweet, sweet Taenzer who greets me with kisses and likes to lie with her head in my lap. My beautiful babies.

And btw--when I die, don't go all serious on me. Don't go on about what a wonderful person I was, because I'm not. Get together in somebody's living room, tell stories, make music, laugh, eat good food. And write a great big check to your favorite rescue group or animal shelter.